


After the War

by vuldromeda



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Harry Potter, Domestic Fluff, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry Potter Has PTSD, Harry Potter is a Good Friend, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter Friendship, Hermione Granger Has PTSD, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Hogwarts, Professor Harry Potter, Professor Hermione Granger, Professor Neville Longbottom, The Golden Trio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:28:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25985896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vuldromeda/pseuds/vuldromeda
Summary: This is just my version of the Epilogue that was definitely never written. Takes place roughly three years after the Battle at Hogwarts, I just want them to be happy and try to take care of themselves.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Luna Lovegood, Lavender Brown/Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom/Harry Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 63





	After the War

Harry woke up with a choked gasp, sitting up in bed and grasping at his forehead desperately. Breathing heavily, he collected himself, forcing himself to remember that that was in the past, his nightmares truly were just nightmares and not visions. Harry glanced at the drawn curtains surrounding his bed, cast with Hermione’s wards and his silencing charms. He knew that Hermione got even less sleep than he did, which was saying something, so he refused to let up the silencing charms despite her protests.

Once Harry’s heart slowed, he opened the curtains and put on his glasses before casting a tempus.  _ 6:30 am.  _ He groaned. Knowing he wouldn’t get back to sleep, he rolled himself out of bed and went to the kitchen, knowing he’d find Hermione there, downing coffee and filling her time with research, baking, or spell creation. She never got over the habits she picked up on the run, always busy and ready to go. As he padded into the entrance, he made sure to make his footsteps a little bit heavier than he needed so she could acknowledge his presence without panic.

It was no surprise to anyone that they had decided to move in together after the war, buying a cottage in the outskirts of Hogsmeade so Hermione could finish school, and Harry could figure out his life. They needed time away from it all, and with Ron taking the victory as a way to drink himself into stupors and glamorize his war stories, they could only count on each other. Well… that wasn’t entirely true, Harry thought. Hermione had insisted all of the trio seek help from a psychiatrist, a squib that knew just enough to think them sane but not enough to be in awe of them, and had near instantaneously diagnosed the both of them with C-PTSD.

While Ron refused to listen to the psychiatrist (he found himself confused by anything muggle), the Golden Girl and Boy were able to just skirt the edge of unhealthy coping mechanisms, using each other as support to prevent them from going too far. There were still nights were Hermione came home with bottles of firewhisky and tears in her eyes, but Harry made sure to lock the floo and hold her close, just as she did when he found himself taking a little too much pain relief potion.

“Harry!” Hermione whirled around from the counter she had initially been leaning against when he entered, her arm moving to cover the counter corner. Harry’s eyes narrowed in the spot, so he quickly moved to hug her, looking over her shoulder to see the open firewhisky next to her coffee. Rough night, then.

“Hermione…” She shook her head to herself, holding onto him tighter.

“I know, I just…” She let out a sob. “I wish I didn’t look as broken as I felt.” He knew she was talking about her arm and neck; she had taken to wearing turtlenecks no matter the weather to prevent some of the horrified gasps. During one of her long nights in the library, wand in hand, Malfoy hesitantly approached her, palms up as a sign of peace. Over time, they had gotten to be… not friends, exactly, but at least acquaintances. Draco had explained that Bellatrix’s dagger had been imbued with her magic, a unique combination of runes and charms that made it near impossible to heal from fully. And so, Hermione set her sights on innovation, turning their small office space into a brewing/dueling room, a dangerous combination for anyone other than her.

She had, of course, found herself at the forefront of R&D for healing and defense, blessed with Neville’s perfect flora and Luna’s… Luna-ness. As surprising as the pair were, they worked well once Hermione stopped debating every last word they exchanged. Luna had a way of saying what Hermione needed, but in the most indirect ways that drew her to new trains of thought. While it was safe to say that Ron was no longer one of her best friends, they were still close, and Harry and her set aside at least one night a month to spend with him, Ginny, Luna, and Neville. Speaking of that…

“You never have and never will look or be as broken as you think, Hermione. Come on, let’s sit, and I’ll read to you, okay?” He pulled away from her a bit, smiling gently. “We need to set up game night later, but first, you need to rest.” With a nod, Hermione wiped off her tears and allowed him to pull her into the living room, their book left on the side table for them to comfort each other as needed. As he read to her, he thought about the past few years, how far they pushed each other to improve.

They had both decided to improve Hogwarts, making their cottage even more convenient. Harry’s original goal to become an Auror had fallen flat as he quickly realized how terrible of an idea it was to keep himself in action. He was the boy who lived not once, but twice, the wizarding world could stand without him every once in a while. But, he couldn’t quite leave behind DADA, and so he became the first professor to hold that position for over a year since Voldemort cursed the position. It was his second year, and he found himself in love with the job, meeting with Hagrid and Neville during his off periods frequently. True to her fashion, Hermione used hers as an opportunity to either prepare materials for Madame Pomfrey or continue her experimentation, smoke and loud noises commonly coming from her classroom’s door as she used the extra cauldrons to her advantage.

She often retreated to the potion room before the weekly Sunday dinners at the burrow, arriving with spots of soot as she rushed into Molly’s arms. The Burrow felt empty more often than not, Ginny losing some of her spark without Fred around to spur her on. George came over rarely, instead going over for brunch during the weekday where there were less people, making it easier to forget about his missing twin. At least he had Ron, who had moved in with him to help restore the Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes and comfort George. Harry was glad that, while now they were further apart, Ron had begun drinking less when he moved in with his brother.

Without being in a daze all the time, Ron had ironically been the first to find different relationships with others, going back to seeing Lavender, but slowly this time. Now, a year since they started dating, she was being brought fully into the fold, Ron bringing her to their cottage for game night. But Harry couldn’t reminisce long, as he found himself having to get ready and set up for the night, as he had read through just under half the book with Hermione, letting themselves find comfort in each other’s presence. Since their time on the run without Ron, their sibling-like bond had become all but permanent. They knew it would only be broken by death or worse, making them a bit of a package deal considering how much they used physical touch to comfort one another.

Once they had set up and their guests had come, Hermione found herself with a notebook and pen (“Not all of us are stuck in the last century, Ronald”), writing down ideas as they come to her during her conversation with Luna. As they perplexed Lavender with their muggle board games (“What’s a spanner and how does it become a murder weapon?”), Hermione had a chance to relax a bit more than usual. She knew she’d always find it ironic that it was Ron and not Harry who had committed to someone first, but she could tell that the cottage owners simply weren’t ready yet. However, as they joked and laughed together, Hermione caught Neville catching Harry’s eye, and seeing as Luna was becoming where her sights were set more and more, she smiled to herself. They weren’t ready yet, but, she wrote down on the corner of her page, they would be soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you know I have a Tumblr? Follow me @vuldromeda, I post about my writing and I draw stuff sometimes (like my version of the triad in the Smelting, my main fic). Anyways, let me know what you think and I hope you enjoyed reading!


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